WARNING: This story is a product of imagination;
it is not a depiction of real life. It involves sexual acts between
two or more males of the human species. If you are offended by that
idea or its explicit description, regardless of whether it's the act that
offends you, or the age or relationship of the participants, don't read
this story. If writing about any type of sex between males is illegal
in your nation, or in your particular municipality, county, state, province,
or other political subdivision, don't read this story. If your age
makes it illegal to read this story, don't read this story.

Copyright (c) 1998 by Marc Tremaine. All rights
reserved. You have the right to download this story to keep on your
computer, and to print a hard copy if you preserve the title, warning and
copyright notice. You do not have the right to otherwise reproduce
or repost this story. You do not have the right to rewrite this story.
You do not have the right to use this story to make any amount of money
for yourself or anyone else. If you do not understand these rights
as I have listed them for you, my address is above: ask before acting.

SUNDAY IN THE THEATRE WITH MIKE

Okay, if you listened to the first tape, or maybe
saw the transcript...you know, the one where I look like more of an asshole
than usual with the "testing, testing" crap, then you already know what
I look like. So skip the paragraph after the next one, it'll bore
the shit out of you. (Yeah, assholes, I am smart enough to
figure out where he's gonna put paragraph breaks when he transcribes this.)
As for the rest of you, who are coming into these adventures late, time
for a reality check.

My name is Michael. Not Mike. Okay, okay,
so I said he could use "Mike" in the title, so sue me. The faggot
who's transcribing this thinks the title is funny, he was mumbling something
about Broadway around my dick just before he started gulping down my cum.
Hey, you don't think I'm gonna let him get away with that unless I get
something in return, do you? And he does suck nice.

Anyway, Michael is my name and that's the way
I like it. Stats. 45. 5'11". 150 pounds.
Feels like about ten of those pounds are around my waist. Brown eyes.
Reddish-brown hair that's goin' grey awfully goddamn fast. Goin'
bald even faster, so I keep my hair cut short. None of this drape
a few strands of hair over my head and pretend crap. Real average
build. No lifting weights `n stuff. Hair around my tits and
a line of hair down to my navel and then into my crotch. Real average
looks. Even when I was younger I never could understand why anyone
would trick with me...especially some of the occasional really hot ones,
like the 6'3" blond in L.A. and his Latino buddy. Well, I guess that's
another tape. Oh. The other thing. Seven inches...just
barely. Cut. Sticks out straight when I'm hard. Average
width. Decent-sized balls that hang fairly low, but nothing spectacular.

This happened a couple of months ago. There's
a theatre not too far a drive from my place. Ten, fifteen minutes
depending on traffic. In a really rotten neighborhood.
Mine is better, but not one of the city's nicer addresses, and definitely
not the part of town where all the money lives in the ten, twelve, fifteen,
twenty room big old homes. How rotten is the neighborhood where the
theatre is located? Best explanation is that they have this big sign
posted in a couple of places inside that says if you want an escort to
your car they'll be happy to provide one. Get the picture?

Probably used to be a nice movie house. Once
upon a time. Once upon a long fucking time ago, that is.
Then somebody converted it into a porn theatre. Right in a damned
residential area, although it's been quite a while since there was a lot
of nice folks living around there. Downstairs there's a place to
buy or rent fuck videos, straight, gay, bi, every persuasion and position.
And a small arcade with eight viewing rooms. The main floor of the
theatre they use for showing straight fuck films...or maybe it's videos
projected on a really big screen. Big for fuck flicks in a theatre,
not like one of these 90 feet by 30 feet screens with the stadium seats.
They put a floor in the front of the balcony, which was only like six rows
anyway, and made a second theatre upstairs for gay fuck films.

If you go into the downstairs theatre you come in
on the left side, walking down a steep slope with rows of chairs, maybe
six or seven to a row. Then you hit the theatre. Center section,
two side sections. A big T-shaped stage with the cross-piece under
the screen. For a while they had Saturday night male strippers but
gave it up eventually. They must have pulled some of the rows out
and rearranged things, because each aisle has to be at least four to five
feet wide. Which means if you're sitting in a seat half naked with
your pants down and your knees spread wide, jackin' off, you aren't going
to be anywhere near touching the backs of the chairs in front of you.
Right behind the center section is an even wider aisle, maybe seven-eight
feet wide, with a solid wall that runs up to the projection booth.
Very dimly lit, even when the film is playing.

You have a choice about how you want to display your
wares. You can sit in a seat and play with yourself, through your
pants, or just pull your cock and balls out, or strip, or whatever.
Or you can stand against that back wall behind the center section.
Or sit around the corner in the rows going up to the door. Some guys
are there just to watch the film and jack off. But not many.

Certainly not me when I'm in my I-need-a-prick-now!
mode. This particular Sunday afternoon I bought a combination ticket
that gave me access to both the theatres, which of course you had to be
buzzed into. My asshole was twitching, and I was looking for a guy
I'd met a couple of weeks earlier there on a Sunday afternoon.

Yeah, I like places like this. And no, I don't
go there regularly. Too cheap. No matter how good the sex is,
part of me is always calculating, well, that was a fuck or suck or whatever
that cost me nine bucks (combo) or five bucks (one theatre). I go
through a phase, I guess, where it hooks me like a magnet and keeps pulling
me there, and then I decide to back off for a while. Besides cheap,
I'm also impatient. I'm not going to sit around in an empty theatre,
waiting forever, or cruising a bunch of guys who aren't interested in me.
If there isn't any action fairly quickly I just write off the loss, wishing
the hell my tax attorney friend in California could figure out a way to
really write off the price of the tickets.

This particular Sunday I went to the downstairs theatre
first. When I got there the only one in the theatre was a guy sitting
in the back row in the right section. He had his pants down all the
way, his legs spread just a little and after my eyes adjusted to the dimness
I could see he was playing with himself kind of easily. Not goin'
for the kill, but not just gropin' either. Naturally I went over
and sat down next to him.

I'm guessing maybe my age, square face, kinda lined,
greying blond hair short on the sides, real wavy on top. He was wearing
maybe twenty extra pounds around his waist, most of it in front.
Hairy stomach, hairy legs. His dick was in that almost-but-not-quite
hard stage. Being the hell of a nice guy that I am I decided to give
him a helping hand. Or two. One to reach over and play with
his balls, one to beat his meat. Being the gentleman he apparently
was, he reached under my arms and started squeezing my crotch. Which
got me real hard real quick.

Only he wasn't getting much harder. I scooted
down on my seat and bent over, sucking his cock into my mouth. No
idea how long it was but it wasn't one of your dicks of death. Just
a nice mouthful. He started to get a bit harder, but it clearly wasn't
working. Okay. I can take a hint. Only when I pulled off and
sat up, he apologized softly to me...why we were whispering in an empty
theatre I have no fucking idea...and told me he'd just cum a little while
ago and over estimated how fast he could start again. Shit, I should
be so lucky. One cum and I'm done...well, not so done I won't make
sure my partner gets off and gets off as good as I can make him blast if
he didn't do it before me...but definitely done for the rest of the afternoon
or evening or whatever.

I just smiled and said, "Maybe some other time,"
and got up. I stood against the back wall for a few minutes.
Two more men came in. One of them sat against the far wall in the
left section. The other one sat in the back row of the center section
a few seats in from the aisle. I casually wandered over there, not
fooling anyone, of course, and not trying too goddamn hard anyway.
The guy in the center section was just sitting there, not even holding
his crotch. Asshole. The man in the left section was just finishing
taking off his pants. He sat down quickly before I got a good look
at him, although I could definitely tell he was naked from the waist down...well,
almost naked, but I wasn't sure why I was thinking almost. Although
I found out a little while later.

I was just about ready to try the gay theatre upstairs,
but decided to wait a couple of minutes more, so I stood against the back
wall, about in the middle, pulled my cock out of my jeans and jacked myself
back to a hardon. Straight films don't interest me all that much,
especially if it's tits or pussy that's being worked on. But the
sight of a good-sized cock shoving in and out of a hole is a turnon.
Any hole. Doesn't matter if it's her ass or her cunt, you can pretend
it's you who's pile-driving that big prick, or you who's gettin' it shoved
up you.

That's when he showed up. "He" is a young black
guy. Well, young to me means anyone under forty, but in the dim light
he looked maybe in his mid-twenties. He has a round face, hair trimmed
almost to bare skin but not quite, big eyes, plump lips that looked like
they had been designed to be wrapped around cock...I wish...but who am
I to argue if I don't get everything I want...thick neck, stocky
build, maybe 5' 10", and skin a beautiful deep brown that kinda glowed
in that light. He was dressed in a neat Polo shirt...regular Ralph
Lauren logo `n all...and khaki pants. He also had them unzipped and
his hand inside right after he turned the corner and stood at the far end
of the back wall. I looked at him and nodded, and after a pause while
his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he nodded back.

Nope, I don't need any engraved invitation.

I walked over, letting my dripping cock lead the
way. His big hand felt nice and hot when he wrapped it around my
meat and fingered my balls. I naturally returned the favor, digging
for the not-so-buried treasure and bringing it to the surface. Just
like I remembered it. A solid nine inches. He said it was that
long when somebody asked him the first time we met...one of the audience
watching our little show upstairs...and I have no reason to doubt
him. No reason at all. And a lot of reasons to believe him.
About nine, to be exact. I'm not about to shove a ruler up my asshole
along with his cock just to check his measurements. His word was
good enough for me.

A couple of quick strokes and he was gloriously hard.
Of course, to be absolutely certain I had to lean over and suck
him. I'm not all that good at cocksucking anyway, but I still managed
to get most of his dick inside me, getting it good and wet. I stood
up again, enjoying the feel of his thumb swirling the precum around on
my dick head, while I enjoyed the slick stickiness of his meat.

"Upstairs?" I whispered. We both knew what
we wanted, so there was no need for games and preliminaries.

He just shook his head and whispered back, "No.
Bend over the chairs."

Shit. Upstairs in the gay theatre was smaller
and darker and a bit more private and more of a sense of an intimate orgy
room. Here was about sixty percent of a movie theatre, with huge
ceilings, and lots of empty space. And everything real visible.
Real public. Even though you could hear the door around the corner
and up the aisle open and have some warning. Shit, again. My
mind was racing and all this was going on a hell of a lot faster than it
takes to tell it here. To fuck or not to fuck, that is the question.

No question at all. I crossed the aisle to
the back row of the seats, unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned my jeans and pulled
them down below my butt. He was right behind me, playing with my
butt cheeks. It's a fucking ego-boosting turnon to have a hot stud
fingering your hole, and feeling his oozing cock sliding on your butt,
and hear him murmuring what a hot ass you have. I spit on my fingers
and reached behind to loosen up my hole, and then repeated it a couple
of times.

The combination of his own spit on his cock plus
smearing around the thick precum that not only tasted good but was almost
like having a private jar of lube was just right for him to start pushing
against my ass. I could tell he wanted in, but he's a gentleman...no
ramming it to the hilt just because he feels like doing it. I pulled
the bottle of poppers out of my shirt pocket and took a really big hit,
and then relaxed into his dick. He slid about halfway in and then
stopped. I pulled my hips forward so he just barely had his piss-slit
inside me, and then shoved back again slow and easy. Another hit
of poppers and his cock was all the way home, right where it belonged,
up in my gut.

I'd been concentrating on getting the wonderful meat
up my butt so I hadn't been paying much attention to anything else.
When I felt him all the way and wriggled my ass cheeks against his crotch,
I noticed we had an audience. What you might call an interactive
audience if this was a video game. The guy who had just been sitting
in the back row was scooted around in his seat, looking at us, groping
his own cock and balls.

The man from the left side had decided to join us,
too. He was sitting in the back row, too, on the second seat in from
the aisle, right next to the seat I was bracing myself on. Yep, he
was naked from the waist down...or pretty much so. He was
also wearing sheer black hose and black heels, and I don't know what the
hose was hooked up to around his waist...something equally black and sheer.
What the fuck do I know about what women wear? He was probably in
his late fifties, maybe older, and he was sitting there with his legs spread
wide, fisting this long narrow cock with the real wide head, and watching
the black guy and me.

The blond who'd had trouble getting hard had decided
to join us. He was standing on my right side, his pants around his
knees, running one hand over his belly and then squeezing his tits, the
other hand stroking his prick. Jesus. Cocks to the right of
me, cocks to the left of me...and not a cock to suck. That was just
about to change when we all heard the door open. In the time it took
the newcomer to stop and let his eyes get a little adjusted to the darkness
and then walk down around the corner to the center section of seats, the
two in the back row were facing forward, "watching" the fuck film, hands
covering their crotches. The other three of us had our pants up,
and hands cupped over our dicks, and were standing against the back wall.

Everyone's gaydar went ping! when we saw him, so
we all relaxed. The blond guy even said hi, like he knew him...or
maybe had had him there before. The black guy nudged my ass and I
moved back into position. This time it only took a single hit off
the poppers for him to get his meat up inside me in one long smooth glorious
fuck stroke. The guy with the hose was beating off again, and the
blond started to do it, too, but the new guy dropped to his knees and began
sucking like a pro.

Christ, but it felt good to have this long wide black
cock sliding in and out of my hole. I was jacking myself off, but
I wanted something more. The man who'd been playing so coy provided
it. A short, wide cock. Seventh Heaven. Well, no, maybe
seventh heaven would be making it with the preacher and Matt. But
this was a close second. I shared the poppers and worked my ass muscles
on and off the cock filling me up. He got off on the clamp and relax
mode and started plowing my butt a little faster.

"Oh, God, I'm gonna cum," I heard moaned from my
right. We all looked over to where the blond guy was face fucking
the recent addition to our group, who had unzipped and pulled out his own
cock and was jacking off. The black guy pulled the blond close, settling
down to a slow fuck of my ass, while one hand played with the blond's ass
and the other worked on his tits. The kneeling guy was back on his
haunches, holding his face close to the six-inch prick that was getting
stroked faster and faster. We were all urging him on, telling him
to shoot his cum, when the blond whimpered "Tits, please," and the black
stud with his cock up my ass started twisting the blond's nipples hard
and that pushed him over the edge. His cum sprayed out all over the
face of the kneeling man. He kept on moving his hand until his prick
was almost soft, and just a last drop oozed out; the guy caught it on his
tongue.

The blond sagged a bit, and flicked some of his cum
off his hand to one side, and then real hurriedly started pulling up his
pants, tucking his shirt in, zipping up, and departed like he'd seen a
cop coming in the door. Oh well, you don't always get thanked for
a good blowjob or good sex, even when it's in your own bed.

The new guy was probably mid thirties, heavy...well,
fat to be honest...but goddamn was he a good cocksucker. I found
that out when he moved in under-neath me and swallowed me down. Fantastic
sensation. Long, dark-chocolate colored prick spreading my butt wide
and plugging me faster and faster. Me face fucking a cocksucker on
the floor and doing my damnedest to pull the cum out of the fat cock in
my mouth. Poppers made the rounds again, and I waited until last.
I like a really good hit and I didn't want to waste it while the
bottle went around and I had to make sure it got back to me intact.
That damned stuff is expensive.

I tried to include the slender man in the nylons,
maybe alternate sucking cocks while I was getting fucked and sucked, but
he just smiled and moved in close. With his left hand he played with
the balls of the guy fucking my face, and with his right he kept on beating
his meat, rubbing his cock head against my cheeks. I wanted to last
longer, but it wasn't going to happen.

The black guy was really fucking me hard, pulling
his thick meat all the way out of my hole and then shoving it back in before
my hole could shut. Every thrust up my butt shoved my cock down the
sucker's throat. I pulled off the guy I was sucking, warned them
I was getting close, and passed the poppers around again, this time taking
a hit first and last so I was fucking tripping when the black hunk
jackhammered my asshole and then shoved that cock up my manhole so far
the jets of hot cum he was shooting up me collided with the slightly bitter
cum I was gulping down. Within a second I was pumping a load down
the throat of my personal cocksucker, and I could feel his load splattering
on my legs, while my face got sprayed with the last load of cum, from the
guy with nylons and heels and a pair of balls that must have been saving
up for the last decade, because he was like the fucking bunny, he just
kept cumming and cumming and cumming until the warm manjuice was dripping
down my cheek and onto the floor.

We all just stood or sat there, kind of quivering,
me with my legs definitely shaking from the fucking I'd just gotten and
from trying to stay upright and balanced while holding onto the chair.
I cleaned up my ass and cock with some tissue...I was never a boy scout
(well, not that kind)...but I believed in being prepared.
By the time I got myself tucked back inside my jeans, the others were pretty
much dressed, and we were in that awkward, post-public-fucking-what-do-I-do-now
stage.

I decided they deserved something. So I blew...their
minds. Kissing the guy who just fucked your ass bent over the back
row of chairs in a porn theatre, and saying "thanks" apparently isn't customary.
I can't understand why. I repeated the kiss with each one of the
other guys...and we're not talking some delicate faggoty air-kiss.
They fucking well knew they'd been kissed. Then I squeezed the black
stud's crotch and left. They might not want me again, faggots being
that way, but by God they'd remember that afternoon.